


Said a Prayer to a Dashboard Jesus

by sanmyshuno



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (but like Sexual Drowning), Bathing/Washing, Breathplay, But What’s OOC When You Didn’t Have A Character To Begin With?, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Drowning, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminine Words Used For Genitals, Hair Washing, Hair-pulling, How Do I Tag, Humiliation, I Don't Even Know, I think that’s it, Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masculine Words Used For Genitals, Multiple Orgasms, Not Really Important But It’s Mentioned Once, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Potential OCCness, Pubic Hair, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Stone Top, Stone Top RK900, This Is Why You Don’t Wait A Literal YEAR Between Starting And Finishing Something, This Wasn’t Supposed To Be Whatever This Is, Trans Gavin Reed, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation, light subspace, shit gets messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanmyshuno/pseuds/sanmyshuno
Summary: “Assuming that they’re healthy, the average human can hold their breath for up to two minutes whilst held underwater, presuming that they don’t struggle or become scared”.





	Said a Prayer to a Dashboard Jesus

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be the sequel to something but I accidentally finished this one first. There’s no real backstory you need to know, though.  
Title from Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness' “Canyon Moon” for no other reason than I was listening to it at the time.
> 
> Unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own.

RK wants to sigh as he stands in the frame of the door, feeling a humanising desire to lean against it. He watches Reed squinting at the laptop balanced on his lap, unsure if it’s because of the brightness of the screen in the darkened room or the fact that Gavin isn’t wearing his glasses (not that he has the tendency to anyways, preferring to just ruin his already deteriorating eyesight than wearing any eyeglasses or contacts).

He’s not too sure what Gavin’s up to, but he can only assume that it’s not that important, seeing as Reed’s been out on medical leave. Scanning the room, RK concludes that Reed’s been sitting in bed since he said goodbye that morning, still wearing the same pyjamas he had slept in that night. If RK turned up the sensitivity of his smelling, he could probably smell the stench of Gavin not showering since yesterday morning. 

LED whirling, he interfaces with the laptop, forcefully shutting it down. It takes a moment for Reed to process what just happened through his sleep-addled brain.

“Oi, what the hell was that for?” he asks, pushing down the lid of the laptop to glare over the top. Through the darkness, RK can see Gavin’s pupils adjusting from artificial lighting to the sudden darkness.

“My scans show that you’ve been in bed since eight this morning,” he explains, “you should be up. It’s your jaw that was broken, not your legs, detective”.

Gavin huffs in annoyance as he rolls his eyes, opening the laptop and thumbs on the power button, once again bathing himself in harsh blue light. “I thought I told you to stop scanning me. Fuck”. RK has to stop himself from smirking. The reconstruction of Reed’s jaw has only worsened his speech impediment; nasty swelling, as well as needing to take some — admittedly very mild — numbing medication making it harder for him to understand.

It had been months. Months of chasing after this guy. Months of potential lead after potential lead taking them to nothing but dead ends and clues that didn’t add up. But, when they finally managed to catch their guy — hands still stained with the blue blood of his latest victim — he had put up a pretty decent fight, managing to headbutt Gavin with enough force as he was being handcuffed to mess up Reed’s jaw. 

Even after the few who decided to turn up to the hospital went home — citing other work or family or exhaustion — RK had stayed at the hospital, standing outside of the surgery ward, waiting. He had stood there long enough that he’s glad he’s not human, knowing the numb ache that he would have felt if he was. Eventually, a timid looking nurse mustered up enough courage to inform him that his partner was fine and that they were just performing minor reconstructive surgery. Something — that Connor later summed up as  _ fear  _ — shot through him, a  _ Software Instability  _ warning popping up in his HUD, which he had promptly shoved away and thanked her as politely as he could muster.

For what was practically an entire night, he stood there, shockingly relieved that the dazed, am that was being pushed out in the wheelchair was still, in fact, Gavin Reed — terrible attitude and all (RK was pleased by the fact, somehow). Only semi-conscious from the drugs they had pumped into him RK’s thankful that Gavin doesn’t do much more than a half-hearted grumble as he’s lifted from the wheelchair and into the passenger seat of the DPD-issued vehicle.

Now, a week into his medical leave, Gavin is  _ pissed _ . Not that he wasn’t usually pissed before, but now it’s getting to unbearable levels of annoyed, for the both of them. RK, always professional and level-headed, is even getting to his wit’s end with Gavin’s childish behaviour.

“My apologies, detective,” RK says, not pretending to sound even the slightest bit apologetic, “but it is in my best interest to look after you, especially during this time. The better you’re feeling, the sooner you can get back to work”.

Gavin scoffs. He’s no doubt annoyed that RK’s come up with a completely reasonable argument. It’s honestly too bad that Gavin’s not a reasonable man. Everything would be so much easier if he was. “Fuck off,” Reed snaps, waving a hand — he’s always been one for unnecessary dramatic actions. A commodity in his generation, RK believes. “I’m  _ busy _ ”.

“I’m sure you are, detective. You must be so incredibly  _ busy _ , seeing as you’ve been sitting there all day”. RK would be impressed by his dedication if he wasn’t so disgusted that Gavin was stewing in his own filth.

If only he was this dedicated to his own personal care.

RK flicks on the light switch, flooding the room with artificial yellow light. Gavin squints, glaring up at RK across the room. Reed looks worse now that RK can see him properly: the swelling is mostly gone, but there’s still te ugly purplish-green colour of bruising surrounding the jaw and a couple of cuts scabbing his lip. A bandage covers an incision wound, something that Gavin hopes turns into a  _ cool scar _ , like all of the other ones that litter his body.

(Not too long into their  _ partnership  _ — quote-unquote, depending on who you’re talking to — Reed tried to get into a fistfight with RK in the breakroom which ended up in Reed breaking the skin of his knuckles over the bridge of RK’s nose, resulting in a  _ cool scar  _ of his right hand.

“It means I’ve lived,” he tried to explain after as he presses ice to his knuckles like he didn’t just try and knock R900’s lights out just moments before. “The scars, I mean”.

“It means you’re weak and susceptible to damage,” RK deadpans).

“The hell was that for?”

RK walks into the room. There’s a dirty t-shirt on the bed, which he makes a show of tossing it in the wash basket before sitting on the edge of the messy — and unmade — bed, crossing one leg over the other to double down on properness. “If you insist on  _ working  _ so late you might as well be using appropriate lighting”.

“What the fuck are you doing, tin can?” Gavin demands, shutting the laptop in a snap, obviously not interested in RK seeing what he’s up to. That’s something that he’s never really understood — and probably never will at this point — about humans: their ability to seemingly get embarrassed by the littlest of things.

“I’m just curious, detective. If it has caused you to sit in the same place for an entire day, then it must be quite complicated”.

“Are you serious?” Gavin asks, “you calling me stupid or something, you prick?”

“Or something,” RK says non-committedly. Reaching over, he plucks the laptop from Reed’s weak grasp, opening it. An article titled  _ Weirdest Patch Notes of 2010  _ stares back at him _ .  _ Various tabs for similar articles are opened too, waiting for  _ research _ .

“Hey, what the fu—”.

“I think that is enough of that,” RK decides, turning off the laptop again and putting it off to the side. The charging cable for it accidentally becoming unplugged in the process. 

“What? No. Fuck you. You’re not my fucking babysitter. Give that back”.

Gavin tries to grab back the laptop, but deft hands reach out and harshly grab Reed’s wrist, not quite painful, but definitely a warning. “No, I’m not your babysitter. That would imply that I get paid to look after you”.

Although, to be fair  _ babysitting Reed  _ is one of the unspoken jobs that Fowler had assigned him to and he does get paid as a member of the Detroit Police Department. 

Reed snorts, “then why do you? Just outta the kindness of your heart?” the tone’s sarcastic, one RK knows from him too well. Gavin wrenches his hands away (although it’s more like RK just letting it go), and throws himself back in the bed, back hitting the headboard, barely cushioned by the pillows. If it hurt him, he doesn’t show it, as he folds himself up into a sitting fetal position, resting his head on his knees, sweater paws — as Connor called them once — wrapped around his legs.

He looks soft, small — something that Gavin doesn’t show often: the vulnerable side of himself. Something about having to put up the brash front of an asshole — of a  _ manly man _ — to be taken seriously as a man. Or that’s at least what RK thinks. It’s one of those deeply human things that, no matter how alive a deviant feels, they’re still an Android, not programmed with those sorts of emotions.

Besides, he can still be an absolute bastard, regardless.

“I don’t have a heart,” RK states, “but I do have free will”.

Reed rolls his eyes, huffing out something akin to a laugh.

It had taken Gavin a few weeks to realise that RK was fully deviant: still too proper, still too by-the-rules; he doesn’t even want to be assigned a name, opting to continue to go by his model number (“there are _ no other RK units here, why would I need to be uniquely identified?”) _ . Unlike Connor, who had taken it out after the revolution, he had kept the LED implanted in his temple. Gavin had originally assumed that it had something to do with the fact that they would look too similar in the face if they were to match. 

Although their eyes are different colours: Connor’s deep browns always looking wide and kind and innocent; whereas RK’s look cold and harsh, grey like steel. When they had first bore holes into Reed’s, he felt small and judged and subjected and — 

No one notices eyes anyway, they had to do something else instead to tell the difference.

“I have free will too, asshole,” he says, “and I’m gonna exercise it by fucking around on the internet until I pass out”.

“Sounds interesting,” RK deadpans. He pictures the way Officer Chen inspects her nails when speaking to Gavin so nonchalantly but decides against doing himself. He’s going for  _ better,  _ not  _ childish _ . “But I suppose it’s one of your better addictions,” he muses. Reed’s almost sure that RK’s about to start going through all of his questionable  _ addictions _ : his drinking, his smoking, his questionable sex life (not that that’s any of RK’s business anyways).

“Hardy har. You think you’re real funny, don’t cha, Megatron?” 

“Of course not. Comedy is not one of my programs. I treat every task as seriously as possible, why would you be any different, detective?”

A shudder runs through Gavin’s body that he tries to suppress.  _ A task _ . It sounds almost too practised of a statement to be an accident — and it was supposed to. Since becoming partners with Reed, RK’s learnt how to work with him, quickly learning how to press the right buttons in the right order to get Gavin to behave, to  _ respect  _ him. Polite reminders and warnings of filing reports never worked with Reed. 

What did work, however, was threats: throw away comments about the contempt that RK might feel towards him, a well-placed punch to the stomach. Those are the things that Gavin knows, that he  _ understands _ . It often makes RK wonder about what made Reed so angry, so untrusting of anyone who wants to show him anything other than violence.

He could find the information himself, of course, but that’s not how he wants to do things. He has his own theories — his relationship with his family, namely the tumultuous one his half-brother Kamski, being the most obvious of them — but he would like to know how  _ Gavin Reed: Asshole  _ was born from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.

Rolling his eyes, Reed sighs as he clambers off the mattress, trying his bed to avoid stepping on the empty plates that he’s left littering the ground beside the bed. RK makes a mental note to clean those up as soon as possible. Bumping his elbow against RK’s shoulder, Gavin shoves past as if there was a chance of him actually knocking RK back.

A tight grip tugs at Gavin’s wrist pulling him back suddenly, lightheadedness dazing him for a moment. RK drags Gavin down until they’re eye-to-eye, Reed’s legs forced to bend at funny angles as they sprawl out to keep him stable. The grip is on the right-side of painful and the intense, unwavering eye contact causes Gavin’s insides to feel like burning embers. “Where do you think you’re going?” RK asks quasi-passively.

“I don’t know? Not here.  _ You  _ wanted me to move, right?”

A beat goes by between them. RK staring Reed n right in the eyes, while Gavin awkwardly does his best to avoid eye contact while trying to look like he isn’t avoiding eye contact. 

After what feels like several minutes of intense scrutiny, RK’s other and comes up, running his fingers through Gavin’s hair. A greasy feeling clings to his fingertips and it feels like it’s clogging his fingers, making it harder to feel things. Under the harsh lighting, it probably looks worse than it feels — although, considering how thick the film of filth looks, it’s not saying much. With the dressing around his jaw, it’s been harder for Reed to shave, leaving his beard to grow out in the past couple of weeks. That’s, however, not really an excuse to forget about washing his own hair. “When was the last time you washed your hair?”

RK knows it was five days ago, his scans told him so. But that’s hardly the point. The point is that Gavin looks like trash and it’s his job for Reed to know.

“Dunno. A coupla days ago. Why? Don't I look pretty anymore?”

Reed’s never pretty. The harsh, angular features of his face, the constant shadow of facial hair, the scar across the bridge of his nose — no, none of it plays well with a descriptor so feminine. No, Gavin’s never been  _ pretty _ . He’s handsome — if only in that rugged way only a human can be; organic, unique,  _ flawed _ . “No. You look absolutely awful”.

There’s an easiness of the comment, saying it so pleasant and polite, as if he was suggesting Reed to take a break from work or asking Hank how many sugars he would like in his coffee. It’s a good tone, RK understands, when he sees Gavin tense up, a choke-off grow dying in his throat. “Shut up, tin can,” he says, although it lacks the bite that he wishes it would have.

“Or what, detective?” 

_ A challenge  _ — something that Gavin has never been able to turn down, no matter his position. “Or I’ll make you”.

Swiftly he’s tugged around. The wrist that’s already caught is forced back harshly as he’s ragged-dolled around and sent face-first down onto the bed, RK coming out on top. Standing up, he takes Gavin’s other arm and tugging it back to meet its other one, shoulders already starting to burn with the twisting. Gavin hisses, knees knocking harshly against the metal frame of the bed. “You’ll make me, will you, detective? I would like to see that”. Reed’s pulled up, one hand encompassing his arms and the other one encircling his neck. 

As he’s taken out of the bedroom, forcefully frogmarched down the hall, he can hear RK practically sneer in his ear: “ _ I’ve made you _ . Are you  _ satisfied _ , now?”. Gavin shudders, feeling the faint brush of RK’s lips against the outside of his ear. He’s quickly shoved inside the bathroom, lights and exhaust fan turning on without anyone touching the switches. RK lets go after he shuts the door, turning his attention towards the bathtub. 

Gavin looks around, unsure of what to do. He could leave if he wanted to, the door isn’t locked. But his feet don’t move, they can’t move. He stays put. “What are you gonna do? Bath me?” he asks instead, trying to mask his insecurity with sarcasm. 

RK’s kneeling on the tiles beside the tub, fiddling with the plug, “I wasn’t planning on it, no,” he replies, turning on the taps. He doesn’t pay Gavin’s awkward shuffling behind him much mind as he reaches over to the little alcove, checking to see if there’s enough product in the bottle of 2-in-1. He hums, seemingly satisfied, although does make a mental note to buy Gavin some actual shampoo and conditioner. Feeling only slightly more relaxed at RK’s answer, Gavin props himself against the edge of the skin, fingers worrying a frayed edge of a faded blue face washer, watching the way RK movies: practised, fluid — it’s kind of hypnotic.

Suddenly, he’s brought back to reality by a towel being shoved in his face. He takes it on impulse, blinking like an idiot. “It’s a towel, detective,” RK offers, tone sounding like one you would use when offering help to a child (probably one too stupid to even know how to spell their own name. Gavin shivers at the  patronising tone). Once the bath is deemed full enough, RK turns off the taps and steps back, nodding towards it, “get in, please. I will be cooking dinner if you need anything else” and, with a curt nod, he’s gone before Reed can say anything.

RK sighs. While the action is useless, the common reaction to sighing in frustration is something he’s picked up in recent months of devinancy, especially in the presence of Reed (or outside of the presence of Reed, but still typically regarding him). He likes having a way of displaying annoyance, although there’s not really much of a reason for him to do it now, seeing as no one else is around. Unless Bastard counts, seeing as he’s come out of hiding amongst the commotion. 

Bastard’s a good cat, it’s hardly his fault his stuck with a terrible owner. On the way back to the bedroom, RK scratches him behind the ear.

The dishes in the bedroom and are picked, as are the dirty clothes lying around. RK strips the bed, finding that the only other clean sheets in the apartment are stained, despite being found folded — admittedly poorly done and terribly creased — in the European laundry.

He’s not entirely put out by playing babysitter to Reed. He knows Connor has a friend who would have something to say about it. Some nonsense about how they don’t have to cater towards human anymore, especially the ones who are too lazy or rude or stupid to do it themselves. But he doesn’t mind — seeing as he had practically volunteered himself for the role of caretaker since the beginning, if only for the selfish reason of trying to win Gavin’s favour.

Which he has yet to do, honestly. 

But regardless — he stays in the apartment, sitting on the couch at night and letting Bastard take residency on his lap until the morning. He takes Reed’s acceptance of help as enough for now, although he doesn’t plan to stay this lenient for much longer.

The door to the bathroom is still closed when he sets the plate of reheated leftover baked ziti on the table. He had expected to see Gavin out of the bathroom by now, annoying him by drip-drying back in the bedroom, getting water on the freshly made bed. It would serve him right, however, to have to sleep in a damp bed.

RK ends up placing a bottle of beer next to the plate after a moment of thought before heading back to the bathroom. 

He knocks once, then twice, on the bathroom door to no answer. He thought the bath would be a good idea, muscles no doubt hurting after being forced into a hunch all day. But now RK concerned that he may have fallen asleep in the tub. He could drown; it’s unlikely that he would, but the possibility is there and RK doesn’t care for the berating from Fowler if that were to happen. He knocks again, this time more like a warning instead of just out of politeness, before pushing it open. 

Gavin’s in the bath and, thankfully, not dead. However, he’s not exactly cleaning himself either. The filth is still thick in his hair and everything from the waist up is bone dry like he hasn’t even  _ tried  _ to bathe himself. “Hey! The fuck you in here for?” he doesn’t try and cover himself completely, but does hunch a little more to protect some amount of decency. 

“I knocked on the door to inform you that dinner is ready, but you didn’t answer. I assume that you drowned”.

“You’re not funny, you know that?” Reed asks, muttering it as he flicks some water over the edge of the tub as a pathetic attempt of an idle threat. 

“I know that. As I’ve said before: comedy isn’t one of my programs”. RK walks over, crouching beside the bathtub. There are splashes of water on the ground which dampen the knees of his pants. Unfortunate, and frankly, disgusting. “Just like cleaning yourself isn’t one of yours”. 

“Shut up. It’s not like that”.

“Then what it like, detective?” he asks, tone flat.

Gavin shrugs in the _I don’t give a fuck_ sort of way that he usually reserves of Hank or Connor (commonly accompanied a backwards walk and two middle fingers). “I just couldn’t be bothered. And no one’s seeing me, anyway”.

“I see you”. RK dips his hand into the water. It’s cooled considerably, probably much colder than Reed would usually like it, but there’s still enough warmth to it that there’s no real need to rush Gavin out. “And, if that’s going to be your attitude, then I really don’t think what you is important then”.

“You gonna make me?” 

Stupid Reed — always trying to make everything a challenge. “You don’t truly believe that I think you need help bathing yourself. You’re hardly mature, but you  _ are  _ an adult, detective. I would hope you know how to wash yourself by now”. Gavin goes to speak, but RK cuts him off before he starts, “No. There’s something else you want —  _ need  _ — from me, correct?”

* * *

Reed is horrible at taking care of himself. It’s something that RK caught on to very early on. When he had first laid eyes on Reed, honestly. He’s not entirely capable of living life like a fully functional adult, something more like a failing college student. Not completely disastrous, but not entirely healthy either. 

There are times, however, when Reed walks into the bullpen, not smelling like last night’s alcohol and actually knowing how to do his job with prompting and threats. And it’s good to have a decent partner, but RK does find himself marvelling about how a man who thinks mixing energy drinks and coffee is a good breakfast or thinks 2-in-1 is a good product is also the same man who was able to find clues that even RK wasn’t able to see.

Originally he thought it was something more serious — an abusive partner who was away, allowing Gavin a moment of reprieve. It might have been a ridiculous conclusion to jump to but being an Android designed to solve crime and being presented with someone who has a steady wear of cuts and bruises could only lead him to such thinking. Then RK had begun to notice that Reed wasn’t panicked about the marks and didn’t try to hide them, but instead wore them proudly like a badge, and it made him start to think differently. Especially with the brash nature of Reed’s personality lends itself to someone who spends their nights drinking and causing fights in the streets.

It caused him concern. As much of a pain that Reed is, RK wouldn’t want another partner; no one could push him the way that Gavin does.

“Is everything alright, detective?” he asked, cornering Gavin in the breakroom. It probably wasn’t the smartest move, he will admit, but there are few times Reed would spend time with him voluntarily to have this conversation.

Gavin didn’t bother to look up from the coffee machine when he replied, “it was ‘til you showed up”.

RK bit his tongue, wanting to appear as if the comment didn’t annoy him. Maybe his delivery was too stark, sure, but the concern was there — did it not come through well enough? RK tried to put as much emotion into his question as his voice modifier could. “You’ve been coming into work with signs of partaking in rough or violent activities. I’m just wishing to know that you’re not unwell”.

That did cause a reaction — a shocked expression that was quickly recovered. “Fuck off, tin can. It’s nothin’ like that. Jesus. I can take care of myself”.

“Apparently you can’t,” RK said, reaching out to trace the outline of a faint mark in the shape of a handprint, high on his cheekbone. It’s not noticeable to the human eye, otherwise someone would have called attention to it by now and even Reed’s not that stupid. Gavin let out a sharp bite of breath as he stiffens up. 

While RK wasn’t programmed with sexuality in mind, he was designed with the ability to recognise over a hundred different facial expressions.

Lust being one of them.

He pressed the tips of his fingers harder into the print, just where he noticed the middle and index fingers are. “You’re not fighting, are you?” A quick search gave him the answer —  _ BDSM _ .

“Fuck. No. Just — just fuckin’ leave it, okay?”

And he had left it. He hasn’t forgotten it, but he left it; knowing full well that every time Reed comes into work smelling of someone else and knowing how to do his job, he’s spent the weekend having the hell being beaten out of him. 

And enjoying it.

* * *

Reed grabs the nearest thing that he could reach, hand connecting with a bottle of lime-scented body gel before throwing it at RK, who’s quick reactions allow him to dodge it. It hits the door, clattering loudly to the tiles. He wants to sigh again. “If you just came in here to fuckin’ humiliate me, you can fuck right back to wherever the hell you lived before here!” 

RK doesn’t become put out by the outburst, yelling is Gavin’s usual reaction to most things, but he does pick up on the use of words:  _ wherever the hell you lived before here _ . Perhaps he should address that. 

Later. 

For now, he has to deal with Reed.

“I’m not here to  _ humiliate  _ you. Not unless you want me to, of course. No, detective. I am just — doing what I can to ensure that you’re happy, healthy and safe. It is my job as your partner, after all”.

“I don’t need your help, a’right? I’m  _ fine _ ,” he hisses, “leave me alone. I’ll be done in a minute”.

Taking a risk, RK reaches out, stroking a hand down Gavin’s cheek, a feather-light touch that continues down until it reaches his neck. It’s only a slight pressure, a barely-there warning for what may come. From what he’s gathered from monitoring Reed at the department, he is quite fond of breathplay. The jaggered breath only confirms his suspicions as he watches Reed dig his nails into the meat of his thighs. “I don’t think you are”.

“Fuck. Yes, okay. Yeah, there’s something I want”. If only RK knew how agreeable Reed could be if he was choked out some. Just how  _ pliant  _ he seems to become with the tiniest of pressure. 

“Thought so”. 

It makes sense for Gavin to be so starved for this sort of attention, seeing as he hasn’t left his apartment in a manner of weeks, being confined to self-appointed bedrest since being put on medical leave. For as long as RK’s known him he hasn’t gone this long without his —  _ bedmates _ , he supposes. 

There’s a plastic cup covered in sharks that’s kept on the sink that holds Gavin’s toothbrush and toothpaste. RK moves to grab it, dumping the contents into the basin. It’s not the best tool for the job, but it’s easier than going into the kitchen to find a jug. Neatly removing his jacket on the doorknob and rolling his sleeves, RK goes back to kneeling beside Gavin. “It would be much easier if you just asked”.

“You know I couldn’t, prick,” Gavin mumbles at his fingers.

“Because I’m an Android?” RK asks, genuinely curious. 

“Because I  _ couldn’t _ ”. RK doesn’t really understand what he meant entirely, but he assumes that it’s one of those human complexities. 

RK dips the cup into the bathwater, dumping it quickly on Reed’s head, causing him to sputter, a curse or two flying out in surprise. “Behave”.

“Or what?” he repeats what RK had said earlier, although he doesn’t look nearly as intimidating: wet hair plastered to his face, looking like a drowned rat.

“Or I will leave you here on your own”.

Glaring up through the droplets of water, Gavin says, “No you won’t, cuz if you do, I won’t do shit and you know it”.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. that’s so”.

Reaching across Gavin’s body, RK makes a grab for the shampoo, squirting some out on his palm, “then behave,” he repeats, rubbing a lather in Reed’s hair, “and, if I am impressed with your attitude, then I will consider rewarding you for it. How does that sound, detective?”

RK wasn’t sure if he said the right thing. No amount of research will ever prepare you for what happens in practice. But when it makes Gavin shutter, a hopeful combination of head massage and condescending tone knocking out a breathless moan helps confirm that he is, in fact, on the right track. “Yeah. Good,” Reed agrees. 

RK nods, the curt kind that he keeps for those who outrank him or for when Fowler gives him instructions he doesn’t like but has to agree to anyway. “Good. Relax then”. 

And Gavin does.

He  _ behaves  _ as RK massages the shampoo into his hair, talking about what happened at work today, about how Officer Chen — always so formal, it makes Reed roll his eyes, earning a quick tug at his earlobe — was still asking how he was. Even Connor had shared some concern about Gavin’s wellbeing. Gavin’s still not able to look Connor in the eyes anymore, not after he was left lying on his back after having the absolute shit kicked out of him — beaten and bruised and left with something to think about as he thrusted his fingers into himself later that night.

Reed doesn’t reply, instead just swirls a finger in the water, making patterns that ripple a little before disappearing, humming occasionally to show that he’s listening.

Those skilful hands massage their way down Gavin’s neck and shoulder, nimble fingers rubbing out the tense knots that had formed from being hunched over his laptop all day. “Do you want to know something, detective?” he asks casually. 

His question could end in two ways: he could be right, knowing about Reed’s love for breathplay might lend nicely to his sudden thought; or it could end with him being told in some unkind terms to  _ fuck off _ . 

Gavin rolls his eyes, “only if you don’t stop doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now”.

A chuckle, or at least someone close enough to one to suffice, escapes RK. “Assuming that they’re healthy, the average human can hold their breath for up to two minutes whilst held underwater, presuming that they don’t struggle or become scared”.

Gavin’s breath hitches. “And why are you telling me this?” he asks like he doesn’t already know the answer. He’s a detective, surely he can put two and two together and get four.

“I would like to try it with you. I know already about your proclivity for breathplay, and, seeing as we need to wash this shampoo from you, it may be smart to do both at once”. It’s a ridiculous, half-baked reason, probably sillier than RK just coming out with saying _I want to drown you_ _because I know a slut like you would enjoy it_, but the thinly veiled logic of it makes it feel more like a game — _makes it easier for RK to mock him for it later, when he’s a drooling, sloppy mess_.

And, like how Reed reacts to any game because he’s bitter and stupid and doesn’t like to lose, he doesn’t say  _ yes  _ like his body is getting him to, instead, he asks, “is this my reward for being good?”

RK digs a thumb hard into the space between Gavin’s shoulder blades, causing him to arch and groan, a mix of pain and pleasure shooting down from his spine. “No,” he says, “I remember telling you that I would reward you  _ after  _ your bath, and I’m not done with you here yet”. RK runs his fingers down Gavin’s arm, barely-there nails scratching down the length of them. “Now, was that a yes or no?”

Gavin feels dizzy, but he thinks he manages a  _ yes _ , because RK leans down and presses a kiss to Reed’s temple where the LED would be. It makes him feel faint for reasons he’d prefer not to think about. It doesn’t feel bad so he doesn’t tell RK to not do it again. 

RK lifts Reed’s nearest arm and places it high on his thigh, wetness soaking through the thin material almost immediately. It’s an awkward reach over the edge of the tub, but not too painful or impossible so he doesn’t say anything. “When I hold you under, I want you to tap against my thigh three times in quick succession if you wish to be brought up early”. Gavin knows the drill, this isn’t exactly his first rodeo. “Show me”.

Gavin rolls his eyes like a brat but does it anyway. Droplets of water fly around and he sees one sliding down the bridge of RK’s nose causing him to crack a smile. Either ignorant or uncaring of it, RK takes a chunk of Reed’s hair in hand, squeezing it. Some suds of shampoo slide down Gavin’s face, almost getting in his eyes. “I’m going to count to three and then I’ll dunk you. I’ll be monitoring your vitals to ensure your safety, but please remember to tap out if necessary. Understand?”

He already feels lightheaded, like he’s been breathless for hours already. “Aye-aye, captain,” he says in a lazy drawl, too overwhelmed already but trying to hide it. RK gives a rough tug at his hair, but doesn’t do much else to punish him for being brattish — just a warning, really.

Gavin’s barely given enough time to gulp in a breath of air before his head is shoved under the water. On instinct, he shuts his eyes. The hold on his hair is looser than it was before, letting his head bob a little. He felt mostly like it was floating among nothingness, the base animal instinct to breath creeps up on him, but he doesn’t freak out anymore than what he would have if it was RK’s hand around his throat.

The lukewarm water engulfing his face is relaxing, even.

It doesn’t feel like any more than a few seconds have past when he’s brought back up, a rough tug at the ends of his hair. It takes Gavin a moment to collect himself — eyelashes dripping with water, and a couple of loose hairs plastered to his face. The water has turned slightly milky and a couple of suds are floating along the top. Right: the shampoo. He had completely forgotten the point — as loose as the  _ point  _ was.

RK strokes the plastered hairs off of Reed’s forehead, bundling them back into a shitty little ponytail at the top of his head. “Was that acceptable for you, detective?” he asks, a tone more genuine than it usually is.

“Fucking  _ delightful _ ,” Gavin wheezes, still a little short on breath. “Can we go again?” 

RK smiles a little, only a brief crack which goes as quickly as it comes and Gavin thinks for a second that he had just imagined it. Lightheadedness can do that to you. “Is that how you usually ask for things, detective?”

Automatically, like it’s been trained into him — a thought that’s truer than RK would like to think about — Gavin corrects himself, “ _ please _ ?” as he digs his nails into the palms of his hands forcefully stopping himself from reacting.

“Very well”. Reed gets his three-second warning before he’s shoved down again. The second time it’s better, maybe it’s because he knows what to expect, maybe it’s not. He doesn’t know, but being held underwater, already feeling halfway to hazy, he doesn’t care enough about the answer to think about it. Instead, he just basks in it: the quick, on-coming feeling of suffocation, the feeling of RK’s tight grip on his hair. 

He was held down longer this time, the need to breathe closer than it was previously, but still doesn’t get to that  _ ohshit  _ panic stage he would expect it to if he was doing it with someone else — someone human. 

When he’s pulled up he’s panting heavily, wrapping his arms around himself as he catches his breath. He can feel himself starting to become wet. Having his life put into someone else's hands — fuck, it’s  _ good. _

“Are happy now, detective? Or would you want to go again?” he asks, almost like he already knows the answer.

“Again, once more? Please,” he says, “and you don’t need to sound so  _ nice _ , you know? You can be a bit meaner to me. I don’t mind”.

“Oh, I can? That’s very nice of you, detective. I will take it into consideration. But I can assure you, I don’t have to be  _ mean  _ to satisfy you”. He reaches out, wiping away the water drops on the end of Gavin’s nose. “I am going to hold your nose this time”. 

He gets a five-second warning this time, sucking in lungfuls of air before RK clamps his fingers around Gavin’s nostrils, pinching them shut as he’s plunged down again. This time, he struggles more — the burning feeling in his lungs hitting him faster, the pressure in his head building faster as those fingers force everything to stay in. He thrashes slightly, legs kicking a couple of times as they fly wildly up. Something drops to the floor but he doesn’t think too much about it, as he struggles to restrain himself.

The hand resting on RK’s thigh stays there. 

RK pulls him up quicker than the did the last few times, automatically bringing Gavin’s head to his body, cradling it against him. He doesn’t complain about Reed’s wet hair soaking through his shirt. Wiping away the water that starts to drip into Gavin’s eyes, RK slicks back Reed’s hair and just  _ holds him _ as he catches his breath.

It’s been so long since he’s been  _ held _ . It feels almost too intense. Weakly, he thinks about tapping out, but doesn’t know if those rules apply now. 

Gavin doesn’t know how long they sit like that for, The bathwater he’s been submerged in has gone too cold and his fingers and toes are wrinkly. Eventually, his breath comes back to him and a majority of the fog clears from his head. As if he could read Gavin’s mind, RK asks, “how are you feeling?”

“Good. Fine. Good,” Reed says, a slight sigh.

“How about we get you out then?” a question? A suggestion? Gavin doesn’t know, but he doesn’t bother answering, which doesn’t seem to matter to RK too much, who just lifts him from the tub, wrapping the towel nearby around him. It’s comforting — solid, secure, warm. 

RK’s careful with the way he rubs Gavin down, soft circular motions as he works on each limb, spending what feels like too much time on them. A soft kiss is pressed to each joint as he finishes with a limb. It feels more like aftercare than drying, making Reed feel slightly confused and a little frustrated. Was  _ this  _ his award for behaving, to be dried like a child? When RK plants a light kiss to a knobby ankle bone — a focus on a small jaggered mess of scar and ink just above it — he kicks up a leg, aiming for R900 square in the nose.

He misses — because of course he does — foot trapped tightly in RK’s hands. His face doesn’t give off much emotion — when does it ever? — but there’s a glint in his eyes that Gavin’s never noticed before — is it just because he hasn’t noticed or because it’s never been there before? (It has to be the first one Gavin doesn’t spend any amount of time looking at RK’s eyes, obviously). 

“I’ve never noticed this before,” RK says like Reed hadn’t tried to boot him in the face just seconds ago. Gavin’s momentary transfixed as he watches RK tracing a vague shape along the side of his ankle. 

“Oh right. That. I forgot about it. Can’t really see it anymore”. It’s a stick ‘n’ poke of a broken skateboard, poorly done when he was sixteen — or something else stupidly young like that— in the garage of a friend’s friend (who was in his 20s and thought it was cool to hang out with highschoolers). It’s mostly faded with time, a little scar along the edges that look like it could be a scratchy mess of anything. The only reason RK’s probably noticed it because he’s an Android. 

“I don’t like it,” RK decides, like it should matter what he thinks. 

“What’s it to you?” Gavin asks, almost demands, “you don’t get a say to my body”. 

RK hums, traces the diagonal zig-zag of one half of the broken board one last time before getting the foot drop back down onto his knee, quickly and efficiently drying between Gavin’s toes. “No, I don’t,” RK says cooly, finishing on his feet and tossing the towel around Reed’s shoulders, “but maybe I should”. Suddenly the weight of the  coarse cheap towel feels closer to an act of possession than it has any right to. Gavin doesn’t try to shrug it off. “Can you walk?” 

Even after Gavin said that he could walk himself, RK still hoists him up to carry him to the bedroom like he weighed absolutely nothing. Something about this should feel weird — being carried out of the bathroom, completely naked by a fully-dressed RK, cradled in impossibly strong arms, but it’s not; there’s something soothing about it, comforting. Gavin feels protected in a way he has never felt before, like he can be safe and happy without having to wait for the other, more violent, shoe to drop.

It’s a nice thought that his brain still can’t comprehend so he squashes it under a mental foot. 

Kind of placed, but mostly thrown, onto the bed, Gavin’s spread out — bare and unguarded, feeling more vulnerable now than he did in the bath or when RK was drying him down. He’s never felt particularly self-conscious about his body, but having RK’s intense glaze boring into him as he crawls on top of Gavin, encompassing him wholly, looming over the top of Reed like some sort of  _ predator _ , makes him feel incredibly small _ .  _

Eyes ranking down every inch of Gavin’s body, RK catalogues every part of him — all the moles and scars, all sorts of marks and imperfections that making Gavin so uniquely  _ him  _ that RK can’t help but want to memorise. The natural flaws and  distinctive features  that are so different to the synthetic perfection of an Android is something that always intrigued RK. _ _

Probably the same way that humans coo at the cuteness of an animal’s pretty fur colourings or how small things are more adorable than their regular-sized counterparts. Feeble and precious and so much more fragile than something like RK, it’s a wonder how someone as defenceless but volatile as Gavin is still in as good condition as he is.

“Now tell me, detective,” RK wonders, “would you prefer I rub this  _ cute little cock  _ of yours?” he asks, fingers tracing lightly against Gavin’s clit. A soft gasp leaves him, the odd feeling of synthetic flesh smooth and soft against sensitive skin. “Or…” he continues, “would you prefer I touch your  _ pretty pussy _ ?” Another gasp and a choked-off moan, bit-back fingernails digging uselessly RK’s arm. 

“I…  _ fuck _ … I don’t  _ care _ . Just  _ fuck me _ ”. 

RK laughs — and Reed recognises it from the brutal, guttural sound RK makes when playing Worse Cop to Gavin’s Bad Cop — smoothing a hand on the inside of Reed’s thigh, just a  _ sliver  _ too low for pleasure, “you disgusting little  _ thing _ . So desperate to be fucked you’re begging for it from just a touch, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck,  _ yes _ ,” Gavin gasps, chest heaving as he tries to rub against RK’s hand, feeling himself clench with useless desperation. 

“Pathetic,” RK sighs, as if doing even this much for Reed is putting him out his valuable time. RK lifts the hand from Gavin’s thigh and brings it down with a sharp  _ slap _ , a sudden sound echoing through the empty silence of the bedroom, barely being filled with the soft gasps and shaky intake of air from Gavin. A sweet little sob leaves his lips, filling RK a sense of satisfaction as a red handprint starts blooming on tanned skin.

“Fuck,” Reed gasps, words trembling. His legs clamp together on instinct, ready to protect themselves from another slap. A flood of wetness seeps from him in arousal, coating his thighs. RK wrenches them apart to expose Gavin again.

RK hums noncommittally, observing the sight before him. “None of that now. Don’t you  _ ever  _ hide yourself from me again, understand?” Gavin nods with shaky breaths, pinning his knees down with his own hands to show how well he can keep himself exposed. This didn’t seem to be enough from RK who tuts and lands another —  _ harder  _ — slap to the same spot. The deepening mark looking beautiful painted red and glistening with Gavin’s fluid. “I asked if you understood,  _ detective _ ,” the way RK says  _ detective  _ sounds like mockery and it makes Gavin feel lightheaded, “and when I ask you a question I expect an answer.  _ Do you understand _ ?”

Body trembling, Gavin stutters out a “ _ yes _ ”, which is good enough — _ for now _ , at least. Proper manners and correct titles can at a later date. 

Taking Reed under the knees, RK tugs him until he’s position — with his lower half draped across his lap, legs on either side of RK’s kneeling body. RK hums as he ghosts a hand over the heat of Gavin’s folds, fingers barely touching the lips, “good boy,” RK whispers. Gavin sobs a wave of arousal washes through him, RK’s words electrifying him as his back curves into the touch.

The touches feel experimental. Exploring and investigating, it’s obvious that RK has never touched another person before, but it doesn’t reek of inexperience like it usually would. If Gavin was a little more lucid, he’d probably make some sort of quip about what sort of software Cyberlife had installed in him. “You’re so wet, detective, and I’ve barely even touched you. You truly are pathetic,” RK with no real maliciousness about it. Thumbing suddenly over Gavin’s clit, RK’s lips quirk at the high breathless gasp that escapes Gavin. “Look at you — soaking wet and from what? A few mean words and a rough hand? That’s why you’re always trying to cause a fight, isn’t it detective? It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ll give you want to want”. 

Humiliation courses through Gavin, barely filtering the  _ sweetheart  _ amongst everything that RK had called him out on. Reed throws an arm over his face, trying to hide the embarrassment that he’s so weak for. A dominant personality, voice rough with aggression,  brutal hands marking him up with sores and bruises, Gavin’s weak for all of it. He  _ craves  _ it. 

“Gavin,” RK says, tone a warning, “what did I say? Don’t hide yourself from me. I want to see you when you cry”. Reed groans, but agrees, moving his arm above his head, fingers tangling in the sheets. RK hums a noise of agreement, reaching out a twisting a nipple harshly as a reward, revelling in the harsh intake of air from Gavin. RK takes a moment to take in the sight before him — Gavin stretched out before him, cheeks flushed and eyes glossed over, nipples stiff and already tinted red, the slickness between Gavin’s legs, how the unshaven pubic hair was dampened with his wetness and how it filled with room with the intoxicating scent of arousal, the smell border-line too intense for RK’s sensitive sense of smell. 

“I-I’m sorry, It’s just… I want, I just need…”

A quick pull at Gavin other nipple quickly shuts him up with a yelp. “This isn’t about what you want, detective. It’s about what  _ I  _ want to do to  _ you _ . And do you know what I want to do?” he asks, waiting for Gavin to sniffle out a small  _ yes  _ and a nod of the head. “I want to touch you. I want to bury my fingers into you, fuck you on them until you’re crying and begging me to stop. And you want that, too, don’t you, detective?”

Gavin’s eyes already look wet with tears as they widen. “Please,” he barely manages to choke out, “please touch me”.

RK feels tempted to not give in and give Gavin what he wants, but he relents, deciding to save the torture of denial for another time. Gripping the meat of Gavin’s thigh a touch too tight, RK flicks his thumb over Gavin’s dick, who takes in a sharp intake of breath. RK smirks down to Gavin, wolfishly, as he repeats the motion, enjoying the way Reed gasps and shutters, eyes slipping shut as pleasure takes over. Nimble fingers work over Gavin’s clit as RK takes his hand off Reed’s thigh, marvelling at how the skin changes with the new lack of pressure. Wrapping his free hand around Gavin’s throat, RK leans over — bend over at an almost awkward angle — to ask in Reed’s ear, still rubbing Gavin’s cock, “do you think you could take my fingers?”

Gavin groans, hips canting into RK’s hand. “ _ Yes _ ,” he gasps.

The hand around Reed’s neck tightens, not too tight but definitely noticeable, “yes  _ what _ , detective?”

“ _ Fuck _ — yes  _ please _ ”. 

RK presses a kiss to Gavin’s temple, lips cool against his heated skin. Reed squirms at the sudden romantic gesture. It makes Gavin’s tummy flop in a funny way he’s not entirely used to. He can’t think about it for too long — or for any amount of time, really — because RK gives Reed’s neck final squeeze before sitting back up, full height and clothes still straight. A complete opposite of Gavin’s  dishevelled hair and heaving chest, lungs wrecked with ragged breath. Hell — RK’s chest doesn’t even rise and fall with breath.

RK’s index and middle fingers sink between Gavin’s folds, the slide slicked by how wet Reed is. RK thrusts them in, Gavin biting back a scream as they spear him open roughly, hands reaching out in shock, blunt nails potentially digging half-moons into fake skin. RK doesn’t give Reed any time to process or adjust, just keeps moving, deftly massaging Gavin’s sensitive clit and fucking him with his skilful and slender fingers. “There you go,” RK mutters, taking in the soft moans and pretty little gasps, “not so difficult now, are you?” Gavin can’t form a response, too cock-drunk to even think. All he can do is cling helplessly to RK, letting moans fall from him freely. “All you needed was someone to take care of you, isn’t that right, detective? No one treating you like you should”. A particularly harsh twist of fingers causes the welled-up tears to finally fall freely down Gavin’s burning cheeks. “But I am, aren’t I? So  desperate for me, so  _ good _ . Are you going to come for me, from my fingers in your hungry hole?”

“Fuck, yes. God, please,” Gavin gasps between moans, “I’m so close,  _ fuck _ ”.

RK laughs, deep and dark at Reed’s breathlessness. “Cum for me then, Gavin,” he commands, thrusting and curling his fingers deep inside of Gavin’s cunt, sensors picking up on the warmth of Gavin’s wetness more sensitively than human flesh as it drips from Reed and down RK’s wrist, soaking into RK’s pants. He lets Gavin ride through his orgasm, relishing in the clench of muscles around his fingers and the little airy gasps Gavin sighs as he comes down from the high of coming.

RK shoves out from underneath Reed’s limp legs, too drained to be anything more than a ragdoll. Gavin’s panting, eyes closed, exhausted but obviously satisfied. A sense of accomplishment floods RK’s system, not unlike how he would feel after a successful arrest or takedown. Ridiculous.

He wants more.

Repositioning himself between Gavin’s akimbo limbs, he takes in the dampness of Gavin’s pubic hair and the intoxicating scent of his slickness. It’s almost too overwhelming for RK’s system. He kisses the junction between Gavin’s between thigh and cunt on both sides, going up and across. The soft touches feeling nice to bring Gavin down slowly. 

Reed whines at the attention, mostly vaguely feeling the gentle prodding of RK’s tongue. “S-shit… don’t, I-I, I —  _ fuck  _ — I can’t…” Gavin cries pathetically, trying to buck away from RK’s probing tongue but he couldn’t, RK holding him down by a stronghold to his hips. “Stop,” pants, “i-it  _ hurts _ . Fuck”.

RK gives a final swipe of his tongue before he comes up, “I thought you liked it when it hurts, detective?” he cards his fingers through the messy tangle of pubic hair, tugging none-too-gently on the tips of it. “Don’t you want me to look after you,  _ sweetheart _ ?”

Fuck. There was that word again —  _ sweetheart _ . 

“Okay,” he agrees, barely above a whisper. There was no way RK would have been able to hear him if he wasn’t an Android. 

RK smirks, wide and full of put-on  malice, as he dives back down between Reed’s thighs. He's not as natural at eating Gavin out as he was fingering him, but he couldn’t even force himself to quip about it, seeing as RK’s still sucking his cock with inhuman precision, strong licks and nudges of his nose. He’s still sensitive from his earlier orgasm, the dizzy feeling overwhelming in a way that hurts on just the right side of painful. 

Grinding against RK’s face, Gavin wraps a leg around RK, trying to make sure he doesn’t stop eating him out. Any sort of inexperience taken over with the practised poise of someone who’s done this a hundred times. It’s not too long before Gavin’s feeling himself reaching his second orgasm. He tugs on RK’s hair, trying to warn him of what’s coming. “I’m —  _ oh fuck  _ — I’m so close…  _ God, _ ” he whines. RK justs hums, clit between his lips, causing vibrations of pleasure to shock through him. He cries out as he comes again, tangling his fingers in RK’s hair, a few synthetic strands being pulled from his scalp as Gavin tugs harshly. 

When he spills his wetness this time, it drips down RK’s fingers, coating his tongue and flooding his sensors. He licks Gavin through his orgasm, helping him slowly come down from the shockwaves of pleasure. He licks his lips, trying to get as much of the fluid as he could.

Gavin only grumbles out a weak protest when RK untangles himself from Reed’s octopus-like hold, who rolls onto his side, curled up in a loose ball. “Will you be alright for a moment?” RK asks, getting an affirmative enough reaction in response. 

He makes quick work of grabbing a washcloth and a glass of water, cleaning up with stickiness between Gavin’s thighs, and tipping the water into Gavin’s mouth until he’s pleased about how much has been drunk. “You must be rather tired”.

“You don’t say,” Gavin grumbles into the mattress, “nearly fucked me to death”.

RK nods his head, ready to pull the tousle sheets over Gavin’s body so he could get some sleep, “goodnight then, detective”.

As RK grabs the wet washcloth and half-drunk glass of water to make his way out of the bedroom, Gavin clambers across the bed, uncoordinated and unfocused. He grabs at RK’s shirt, pulling a fistful of shirt out of where it was tucked into RK’s slacks. “Where the fuck are you going?” he demands, voice slurred with tiredness.

RK stares down at the hold on his shirt, face serious and self-assured, although the twitch of his eyebrows suggests some confusion. “I’m leaving to the lounge room. You must rest now, detective, and I need to go into temporary shut-down to process some… new information”.

“Like hell you are”.

“Excuse me?” RK asks, although makes no real move to fight against the weak tug of his shirt. 

“You ain’t going anywhere. Not anymore you fucking prick”.

RK stares down Gavin, searching for a hint of something in his eyes — something to show that he was joking, that Reed was just pushing his buttons to get a reaction. But he didn’t. All he saw was seriousness coming through from behind the hazy clouds of lingering arousal. Finally, he relents, “very well then detective,” he agreed, letting himself being pulled into bed. Instantly Gavin back over him, tugging at fabric, pulling at buttons and trying to work out his belt. “Don’t,” RK warns, taking a quick hold of Reed’s hands.

“I just wanna…” 

“I know what you want but I suggest you leave it”.

“But—”

“No buts, understood? Besides, I don’t think there’s anything down there of interest.

It takes a second for it to click in Gavin’s mind. A smirk fills his face as he realises what RK is talking about. “What? You don’t have a cock?” Gavin reviles. 

RK hums noncommittally, “I’m afraid not”. He lays himself down onto the bed, shiny black dress shoes and all, and pulls Gavin down on top of him. RK settles the bedsheets over the top of them, interfacing with the light to turn it off. 

“Then what did you get from this? Did you just want to embarrass the shit out of me?”

“I did want to embarrass you,” RK agrees, “so I do believe that we both got what we wanted from this”.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the fact that I am both a user and owner of a vagina, I am reminded about how little I know about how they operate sexually every time I decide to write about them.
> 
> SLOWLY app ID: 8YZ6X9  
Discord #: Sanmyshuno#5237  
Tellonym user:tellonym.me/sanmyshuno


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